


Lasciate Ogni Speranza

by QueerQuaking



Category: RuPaul's Drag Race RPF
Genre: Bipolar Disorder, F/F, Heavy Angst, Implied/Referenced Bipolar Disorder, Suicide, bipolar depression
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-30
Updated: 2020-05-30
Packaged: 2021-03-02 19:41:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,326
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24452260
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QueerQuaking/pseuds/QueerQuaking
Summary: In which sometimes everything isn't enough, and happiness is increasingly fleeting.
Relationships: Gigi Goode/Crystal Methyd, Implied/Referenced Jackie Cox/Jan Sport
Comments: 4
Kudos: 31





	Lasciate Ogni Speranza

**Author's Note:**

> Title is an excerpt taken from the famous quote from the Italian poem "Divine Comedy", and translated pretty much means 'abandon all hope'.
> 
> Fair warning: This was not beta-ed, contains multiple triggers, and was written at three in the morning. Please do not read if you are sensitive to suicide and/or depression.

It began gradually, like a small stone slowly tumbling toward the edge of a deeply abysmal precipice, propelled by an inexorable gust of wind. Metaphorically speaking, that was exactly what had happened. Once so infectiously optimistic, so deliriously gleeful, Crystal’s time had come, as it always had, and she began spiraling. Her wind came, a merciless tornado of self-hatred, a sense of sheer tire as deep as an abyss swirling exhaustingly. 

It took a few excruciating days for her girlfriend, Gigi, to notice the unsettling change that was slowly overtaking the previously lighthearted girl that she had grown to love. The light that had once illuminated Crystal’s effervescent eyes in sparkling hues of jade had dulled to a faded, clouded grey. As Crystal’s contagious humor that was once so prominent in her personality slowly drained away, and her elated state trickled into something much more mundane, Gigi had begun to believe that Crystal was falling out of love with her. 

In little time, the fights began. Gigi would scream about the lack of affection, the low motivation to go on dates, the insufficient effort that Crystal was suddenly investing in their relationship. It was quite the change from the spontaneity and copious tenderness that Crystal had once shown. Soon enough, Crystal barely left their previously shared bed, as Gigi had begun sleeping in the guest room down the hall. Their only conversations consisted of the simple yes-and-no answers that Crystal would give in response to the compulsory, commonplace questions that Gigi felt pressured to ask.

More often than not, the curt reply that Crystal supplied was a lie, anyway.

After about two weeks, the building tension finally snapped, like the sharpened edge of a knife pressing firmly upon a delicate flower’s petals. Crystal was lying soundlessly in bed, staring blankly at the neighboring wall, when Gigi burst through the unlocked door. The door slammed obviously behind her, yet Crystal did not so much as blink at the intrusion.

“Crystal, what the fuck. It’s been almost three fucking weeks, get up.”

Crystal did not respond. In fact, she did not even look away from the wall, her eyes dull and glassy from fatigued dissociation. 

Gigi huffed slightly, stomping over to her girlfriend’s bedside in her boastfully expensive heeled boots. She shook her girlfriend’s shoulder lightly at first, then harshly after receiving no notion of being seen. Finally, colourless, glazed eyes turned to look in Gigi’s general direction. 

“I said get up, and stop being a fucking child. Don’t be a lazy bitch, just get up and be my fucking girlfriend again.” Her voice had taken a bit of an edge at this point, but her eyes glimmered with tamed hope that perhaps today would be the day that Crystal would finally return to her. 

Gigi waited a moment, but after again being ignored, she grew increasingly irritated.

“Fine. Do whatever the fuck you want. Lay in this fucking bed until you die, I don’t even care anymore. Have a nice life, Crystal.” 

Their apartment grew silent, no sounds beside a slight shuffling, the occasional zipper being zipped, and a few scattered thuds of heavy items being dropped. After about an hour, the entryway door slammed, an almost imperceptible rolling sound following the clicking of heels down the laminated apartment hall until it faded from existence. 

Internally, far deeper down than Crystal could channel at the moment, she was sobbing. She was begging, pleading, beseeching Gigi to walk back through the door, to forgive her, to extricate her from herself. Alas, it was as if she was screaming from the base of the ever-present abyss that had overtaken her conscious mind; in this realm, Crystal remained frozen in place, so far invested in the utterly consuming emptiness of her mind that she simply could do nothing but stare hollowly ahead.

That evening, Crystal’s awareness returned to her slightly. Tragically, it was not the consciousness that everyone in her life had come to know and love. It was only enough of her mind to allow the loathing to return, the static clearing enough for simplistic thoughts to filter through. All of those thoughts, predictably, consisted of Gigi. Every single piece of her former girlfriend that she had come to know and love, from her painstakingly articulated outfits, to her slight bitchiness, to her blinding, if a bit infrequent, smile, came to mind. 

Briefly, Crystal had a spark of motivation. In a final act of devotion, she shakily got to her feet, her clothes now hanging flagrantly from her sickly frame. She unsteadily swayed towards the singular bathroom in her apartment, stripping quickly and clutching the slippery wall for dear life as she showered hurriedly. She was out of breath by the end of it, her thighs shivering from the effort of keeping her upright. Her starved, dehydrated body had seemingly begun to shut down. This was made evident when she attempted to exit the shower, her hand slipping against the slicked shower door, sending her unceremoniously and painfully to her knees. 

A self-pitying, humorless laugh spilled from her lips, a feeble reminder of the times when she had been able to laugh so unabashedly, carefree and excruciatingly happy. As much as the deep-set sense of tiredness attempted to persuade her to stay there on her knees, she knew what must be done, and she struggled back up. 

She found her smallest dress, a beautiful, shimmery flurry of various colours and patterns, and easily slipped it over her emaciated frame. She put on her favorite pair of heels, clumsily fastening them around her frail ankles. Conclusively, she sat at her makeup table, painting her lips and eyelids, filling her fiery-red eyebrows, teasingly her mass of curls into a semi-acceptable updo. Once she was pleased enough with what she saw in the mirror, she gave the first genuine smile that had graced her lips in quite a long period of time. 

Contented, she headed back to bed.

The following morning, a bright sun already prepared to blind those who dared to step outdoors and only the fluffiest clouds smattering the sky, Gigi awoke with a sentimental disposition. She quickly folded the blanket that she had been using and placed it back onto her friends’ couch, heading to the bathroom to get dressed before neither Jackie nor Jan had exited their shared bedroom. 

She left their house an hour later, a skip in her step, the sunshine a seemingly endless source of optimism. Soon, she arrived back at her and Crystal’s shared apartment. She called out for her girlfriend when she entered, not being deterred by the lack of response she received. 

When she breached the doorway to Crystal’s bedroom, however, her optimism fell in fragmented shards to the floor. The sight before her was, in the plainest wording possible, revolting. In their bed, as she had been for weeks now, lay Crystal. However, this time her skin was dreadfully pale, her face a horrendously beautiful display of artistically applied makeup. Her dress fit her skeletal frame perfectly, her body was positioned in an almost model-esque way, and in any other circumstance, she would have looked a haunting vision of absolute magnificence. 

However, the empty bottle of previously well-hidden and undisclosed antidepressants–upon later inspection, one of the most potent doses that can safely be prescribed–was limply lying next to her otherworldly figure, alongside an empty pint of expensive vodka. The most eerie entity, however, was the simple, shakily-drawn smiley face that was scribbled upon a post-it note and stuck to the headboard above her. The painted lipstick on Crystal’s face, mockingly, was a spitting image of the drawing, a fabricated grin traced along her hollow cheekbones. 

The sun shone brightly outside, the world continued to move forward at full tilt, and Gigi crumpled to her knees in despairing agony on the floor of their darkened bedroom as the only light that she had ever known was devoured by the abyss.

**Author's Note:**

> So angst really is not my cup of tea, but I was feeling some kinda way. If you made it through this, good job, you deserve an award. Also, feel free to critique and/or screech at me in the comments :)


End file.
